


What's The Safe Word?

by CrowleyLovesUSUK



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Boys' Love, Frustration, Light BDSM, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Seme England, Sexual Frustration, Uke America, Yaoi, mentions of bondage, sex advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowleyLovesUSUK/pseuds/CrowleyLovesUSUK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>France brings a popular erotic book to a World Meeting and it piques the other nation's curiosity into the world of BDSM...and who better to go to for advice than Germany? Poor Germany... </p><p>(Rated T for some swearing and drinking, mentions of BDSM and some light yaoi)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. France The Troublemaker

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a USUK fic but it somehow turned into a mostly GerIta story, which is totally fine since they are both my OTPs.  
> Nation and human names used—nation names used MUCH more frequently.  
> Pairings: established GerIta, established USUK, hints of PruCan, hints of AusHun, hints of Japan/Greece.  
> Light yaoi and mentions of BDSM. Nothing too insane.  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Hetalia obviously because England and Germany don’t take their shirts off enough. Also don’t own the ‘book’ that France is reading. I also don't own the 'book' that France is reading and thank god for that—I DO NOT condone ANYTHING in that book and find it to be quite dangerous and a horrible depiction of BDSM. This story actually started out because of a conversation with a friend about how much I hated it. I am using it only as a catalyst for allowing the countries to explore the idea of BDSM, but I am confident that Germany wouldn't give any advice that would condone the practices from that story…you all know what book it is. Pretty sure that Germany and France would be like "No…not cool. Do it like this." I digress.

     The conference room door squeaked loudly as Francis pushed it open and stuck his head inside. First, and most important, was to make sure there were no errant countries hiding in the corner, or Canada sitting out in the open. Satisfied that no one was around, France slid into the room and let out a huge sigh.

     _‘Dieu merci!’_ He was alone.

     Relief coursed through his veins as he closed the oak door as quietly as possible. Happily making his way over to his usual seat around the large table and putting his feet up on the chair that England usually occupied, France reached into the pocket of his jacket and removed a dark covered book, opening it to the spot he had marked.

     Francis wasn’t exactly enjoying the novel, it was more along the lines of a ‘business’ read but he also found that it was very difficult for him to put down. He was never good at turning down sex, be it in person or in literary form and if he was being totally honest, he had always been a bit curious about the whole scene. BDSM was more Germany’s thing than his—France was all about the romance.

     Still, despite it all, he kept sneaking around reading, even going so far as to having his assistant order the next book in the trilogy. He was so engrossed in the current paragraph—handcuffs, growl!—that he failed to notice that the conference door had squeaked open again and that he had been joined by quite a few of the other countries. He didn’t even notice America’s breath on his ear as he bent over France’s shoulder saying “What are you reading, dude? Porn? Looks like porn.”

     To say he jumped out of his skin would be an understatement.

     “Amerique! You startled me!” France accused, in an attempt to deflect the question.

     Unfortunately, America’s determined streak wouldn’t let go and he questioned the elder nation once more. “What kind of porn? Looks dark dude. I saw something about a whip, didn’t I?”

     “Non,” France responded quickly.

     He noticed England raising his enormous eyebrows at him and tried to shove the book back in his jacket pocket. America was too quick and snatched the novel out of France’s hands. The brash nation shook his blonde hair causing Nantucket to quiver as he flipped through the book and stopped on a random page. France had one lingering thought of how it was almost adorable, the way that America still mouthed the words along when he read as he did when he was young, before the Land of the Free dropped the book and stared wide at the Country of Love.

     “Dude!” America gasped pushing Texas back up on his nose. “I was right, you’re totally reading porn! And it’s like, super dirty porn too!”

     “Really Francis?” England rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t wait until you were back in your hotel room or something? Are you really that deprived?”

     France knew he had to recover quickly or he would never live this entire situation down. “Non, Angleterre,” he attempted a smile, “I am never deprived when you are around.”

     “You shut your whore mouth frog!” England screeched while taking a step toward Francis. He stopped when America’s hand touched his shoulder. “Don’t let him rile you up Iggy, you know that’s what he wants.”

     England took his seat and continued to glare at France while America put his chin in his hands and leaned forward asking Francis in a seemingly innocent tone, “So what’s up with all the spanking and leather and whips and chains? I thought you were more about the five course meal and champagne and silk sheets.”

     The other nations either blushed deeply or started shifting uncomfortably in their chairs. “Spanking and leather?” England choked out. Germany made a strangled noise and muttered “Whips” under his breath while shooting a quick glance at Italy. Russia closed his eyes and let out a breath saying “Oooooh” while smiling his characteristic smile.

     France knew he couldn’t keep up his attempts to deflect America’s line of questioning and simply sighed “Oui. I am usually all about the luxury and romance but it is always good to learn and open yourself up to new experiences mon petit Amerique.”

     Germany cleared his throat and began to loosen his tie “Perhaps it is time to start the meeting, ja?”

     “No way man!” America chimed in, “I want to hear all about it. Sounds interesting.” He turned and winked at England. The older country blushed even deeper and he managed to squeak out “Interesting?” as he stared in surprise at his younger lover.

     Seizing the opportunity, France slid up next to America and placed his arm around the young blonde’s shoulder, “Oui Amerique! It can be quite fun, isn’t that right Allemagne?” he turned to Germany who was now unbuttoning his collar in an attempt to calm down.

     “This is not an appropriate discussion for a World Summit,” Germany managed with some difficulty. “Hear, hear,” England chimed in.

     “Well then I guess it is a good thing that the meeting has not yet come to order,” France shot back at him. “Far be it for me to interfere in young Amerique’s education. I wonder, Arthur if you are neglecting your duties as a lover?”

     England shot to his feet and opened his mouth to scream when a small voice echoed up from the floor of the conference room.

     “Ve, Doitsu?” Italy’s melodic voice sounded out. The other nations looked down to see the small Italian sitting cross legged on the floor holding France’s book open to the page America had been reading when he dropped the scandalous novel.

     “Doitsu?” The Italian spoke again. “What is a ball gag?”

     Germany slammed both hands on the table with such force, at least two water glasses were knocked over. “THIS MEETING WILL COME TO ORDER!!!”


	2. Phone Calls of Horror

     That evening, back in their shared hotel suite, England couldn’t stop pacing about. He wandered onto the balcony and looked down at the city below. He drifted into the little bedroom and stared at the neatly made bed. He turned and looked at America’s suitcase open on the floor and took in the fact that Alfred seemed to have packed a month’s supply of flannel shirts. He walked back out into the small kitchen and absentmindedly put the kettle on. He could hear America singing from the bathroom and he rolled his eyes. The younger nation had immediately hopped in the shower when they had returned from the meeting and was now butchering what sounded like a Kansas song.

     It wasn’t until he was steeping his precious Earl Grey tea that England realized why he had been distracted and jumpy all day. England sipped his favourite beverage and faced facts. He had been distracted all day because of stupid America saying stupid things about spanking and whips and—no—he had to stop thinking about it.

     But he couldn’t.

     England had experienced his fair share of BDSM back in his pirate days and a bit in the 90’s as well, but he had never broached the subject with America. He never really thought the younger nation would be all that receptive—founded by puritans and all that. But today, when Alfred said it ‘sounded interesting’ England’s heart almost stopped.

     He could clearly picture America’s hands cuffed behind his back and the look in his eyes as England ran a thin whip down the blonde nation’s arm. Immediately England felt a stirring below his belt and let out an involuntary growl. He reached for his cell phone and punched in a contact so hard he left a smudged fingerprint on the number six.

     Two rings and the other line picked up.

     “Hello, Germany?” England began, ignoring all but the most basic of pleasantries. “How exactly would you recommend introducing a little of your brand of fun in the bedroom? It’s been a good while for me, and any advice you have for acquainting Alfred would be greatly appreciated.”

                              *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

     Damn France and his damn book. The whole situation was embarrassing and ridiculous and to make matters worse, now he had England calling him and asking how he should bring up the subject to America.

     Although, Germany had to admit that it was a step in the right direction. He was ninety nine percent sure that the activities in which the Brit had participated back in his sailing days were most likely _not_ of a completely up front and honest nature. He had heard stories from France and Spain and even his brother about England’s past. Back then, the island nation was more of a ‘Came, Saw, and Conquer’ kind of lover and he had a hard time taking ‘no’ for an answer. It was kind of nice that England was concerned about his boyfriend’s comfort zone in the bedroom. Germany was confidant that if this were the sixteenth century, poor America would just wake up one morning cuffed to the bed with no warning and a rum soaked Englishman on top of him.

     He did the best he could with what he had to work with in regards to advice for England, but Germany was also holding out to see if America would even be receptive to such a bedroom adventure. He _was_ founded by Puritans after all. Plus, Italy mentioned to him once that America had been a virgin before he and England got together, despite the fact that Germany kept insisting that he didn’t need to know these kinds of things about their fellow nations.

     A delicious smell came through the door to his office and Germany stood up to follow the scent. In the hall, he immediately bumped into his brother, Prussia, who was coming out of Germany’s bedroom.

     “Bruder?” Germany questioned. “What were you doing in there?”

     Prussia looked a bit surprised and just shrugged, “Nothing.” He reached up on his head to pat the small chick nestled in his hair. “Gilbird and I were just going to see what Feli is cooking. Mein Gott I love it when he stays here.” And with that Prussia turned and scampered down the stairs before Ludwig could question him any further.

     Opening the door to his room, Germany did a quick scan and nothing seemed odd or out of place. He shrugged and prepared to follow the former nation to the kitchen. Prussia was right—it was nice when Italy stayed with them. The tiny, sweet nation was a hell of a cook and pasta was a nice change from wurst on occasion. Although, Germany smiled, as much as his brother enjoyed their house guest, Germany enjoyed having Feliciano stay over much more and for completely different reasons.

     He was about to descend the stairs when his phone vibrated in his hand once more. “Verdammt” he muttered, running his hand through his blonde hair. Pressing the ‘Answer Call’ button he sighed into the phone, “What do you want America?”

     The energetic young nation’s voice sounded a touch too high when he responded. “Hey, Lud—I mean, Germany, dude…um…I need some advice.”

     _'Mein Gott,_ ' Germany thought. “Advice about what?” He really didn’t want to know. He _really_ didn’t want to know.

     “Um,” America muttered nervously, “I was wondering if you could explain some stuff to me. I was thinking about France’s book from earlier and—“

     Germany cut him off. “Nein, please do not continue.”

     “Awe man,” America groaned. “But I have questions! I wanna try some stuff with Iggy but I don’t know how to do any of it and you’re—you know…” The American trailed off.

     “I’m WHAT?” Germany roared into the phone. “A PERVERT? Is that what you were going to say?”

     “Dude no,” America scoffed. “I was going to say The Expert but I guess if the shoe fits…” he chuckled.

     “I am hanging up now.” The German said in a dangerous tone.

     “No wait, seriously.” The American did seem genuinely sorry and more than a little nervous. “Please dude. You’re like, my only hope.”

     Knowing that he would live to regret it, Germany shook his head and closed his eyes, pausing for a moment before he ground out the words, “Fine. Meet me tomorrow before the meeting. I’ll text you the address. We can get some coffee and you can ask me…questions.”

     “Great! Thanks dude!” America’s voice was full of relief and he hung up on the German without so much as a goodbye.

     Ludwig shook his head once more and started down the stairs into the kitchen. Maybe he would be hit by a falling meteor during the night and then he wouldn’t have to experience what would most definitely be an agonizing conversation with America in the morning. Unlikely, but he could hope.

     He walked into the kitchen and saw his brother Prussia and Italy sitting on the bar stools by the counter deep in conversation. They didn’t even notice him walk into the room immediately but once they did, both nations stopped speaking and both looked somewhat guilty.

     “Was ist los?” Germany questioned them.

     Prussia did an awkward one-shoulder shrug and muttered “It’s nothing Westen.”  And Italy jumped up throwing his arms around Germany’s waist and sing-songing, “Pasta Doitsu! It’s delicious! Come eat some of my pasta, ve!”

     Germany was suspicious, but the pasta did smell wonderful. Narrowing his incredibly blue eyes, Germany decided to let the subject drop—for now. He would just ask Italy again later, preferably after they had worked off some of their carb-loaded dinner.

     “All right, fine.” He sat down on the stool next to his brother while Italy dished up three bowls of his masterpiece, all the while chatting about everything under the sun from the perfect al dente pasta to how he was so excited to hear Spain’s presentation at the meeting in the morning.

     The tall blonde wasn’t really paying attention until the small Italian said “And maybe France will bring his funny book again, yes? France told me that you know all about the things in his book Germany. Is that true? Maybe we can read it together?”

     Prussia burst out laughing at the look on his brother’s face and Germany sputtered on the beer he was drinking. That damn book. Damn France and that damn book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think America was singing "Carry On My Wayward Son" because I love Supernatural and I would hope that the hero would as well.
> 
> Was ist los? -- What's going on?


	3. Helping a Friend

     Checking his watch with a sigh, Germany gripped his coffee cup tighter and sat down on the bench beside him. He had told that annoying American _exactly_ what time to meet so that they wouldn’t be late for the summit this afternoon, but Alfred was now fifteen minutes behind schedule. Germany grumbled to himself at the young nation’s rudeness.

     Suddenly he heard a bright voice and he looked up to see Alfred waving at him as he crossed the park, hamburger in one hand and a fast food bag tucked under his arm. “Ludwig, dude!” he called as he approached, careful to use his friend’s human name in so public a setting.

     “Sorry I’m late man, but I was so hungry, ya know?” America collapsed on the bench and took a large bite of his burger.

     “We don’t have much time since you were tardy,” Germany said stiffly. “Get on with it, I wish for this to be over as quickly as possible.”

     The younger blonde seemed to pay no notice to the elder’s dark tone and continued to contentedly munch his food for a moment before speaking. “Okay, so I get the basics and all that, I mean—the hero has TONS of experience,” he began.

     Germany’s polite nature forced him from refraining that he knew exactly _how_ much “experience” the poor little country had. He simply glared at America in response to the young nation’s untrue boast.

     America continued on without hardly a break in eating his burger or to take a breath of air. “So basically all I really need from you is some advice on how to, I don’t know, get started, I guess.”

     “First things first,” Germany spoke up. He already knew the answer but he wanted to make sure that he and America were on the same page. “Are you going to be the Dom or the Sub?”

     America scrunched his nose up in confusion. “Huh?”

     Germany repeated his question and received only a blank look from the American. _‘This is my nightmare,_ ’ Germany thought. “Top or Bottom?” he snarled, trying not to picture his two friends naked and in bed.

     Immediately, America’s face turned redder than one of Romano’s prize tomatoes and he choked on the last bite of his burger. “Um…um…” the younger blonde stuttered, “we um, we switch off you know, whatever feels right at the time—“

     “Gah!” Germany cried out. “I don’t want to know that much!” He could feel a small blush coming across his face and sighed. Clearing his throat, Germany looked directly into America’s eyes and said “You will be the bottom this time. The Sub.”

     “What?” America scoffed, “I don’t think so. I’m the hero!”

     Germany rolled his eyes and bluntly stated, “And Arthur is a pirate and a former Empire who has been a Dom for years—longer than you’ve been alive. You are going to be the sub and that’s all there is to it. No way is he going to ‘switch it up’ on this front.”

     Germany watched as his words seemed to roll around in America’s head. He waited for the expected outburst of indignation, but the taller nation was surprised when America blinked uncertainly at him with a hurt expression on his face. “He was doing this before I was _born_? So he _knows_ what he’s doing? And I assume _likes_ it.”

     Germany nodded, unsure of where the American was going. “But…he’s never talked about it before, at least…not to me,” America whispered. The young nation’s thoughts and fears suddenly poured out in a torrent of words. “What if he doesn’t trust me and that’s why he never brought it up? What if we try it and I’m no good and Britain realizes that his past lovers were better? What if it really hurts and he thinks I’m not a real hero? What if—“

     Cutting his friend off with an awkward pat on the shoulder, Germany looked him dead in his eyes and said, “Alfred, calm down. Arthur loves you—we can all see it. There is nothing you could do that would make him wish for a past lover.”

     “Really dude?” America seemed unsure.

     “Really. Er liebt dich.” Germany attempted a smile to show his sincerity, although it didn’t do much besides make America look at him warily. “Perhaps he never mentioned it earlier to you because he was worried that you would be uncomfortable with the idea,” Germany suggested.

     The younger nation dipped his head and muttered “Yeah, I guess I can see how he might think that.”

     “Just trust him,” Germany said. “None of this will work if you don’t trust him.”

     “Oh I do!” America shouted. “I trust Iggy with my life!”

     “Wunderbar,” the elder nation smirked a bit. “Then you, my friend are in for a very good time.” He reached into his heavy overcoat and pulled out a DVD, which he handed to the American. “This will help. And, um, you can text me with questions I suppose.” He watched as the American studied the cover of the video curiously. “And Alfred,” he stated as America looked up at him. “Remember to trust him and know that he loves you more than anything, ja?”

     “I will. Thanks Lud,” the blonde hero grinned. “Or I guess I should say ‘danke.’”

     The American’s smile grew bigger as Germany let out a true, loud laugh, glad that the two of them had become friends despite their past.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

     Two days later, the German winced as America clapped him hard on the back and whispered “Thanks dude! I can hardly sit down!” into his ear. Germany glared daggers at America, who only winked and scampered off to join England and Japan at the far end of the room.

     It had been a somewhat excruciating two days for poor Germany. England and America were far from the only nations interested in Ludwig’s particular expertise. The German nation had been hounded by just about every nation present at this month’s gathering.

     He did feel a twinge of guilt when he recalled how he responded to some of the questions laid before him. In particular, screaming bloody murder at Austria when he questioned what kind of music Germany preferred when tying up a lover.

     Watching America cross the room and slip his arms around England, Germany shuddered. What was that peeking out from under his friend’s leather bomber jacket? A collar. America was wearing a collar. Well, at least Germany could be confidant in his ability to guess who was in charge of that relationship when it came to a little rough playtime.

     Closing his eyes tightly, Germany attempted to get rid of the mental images of America and England and—nope—it wasn’t going away. _‘Verdammt,’_ he thought. This was going to be a long meeting.

     A small hand slipped into his large gloved one and he opened his eyes to look down at Italy’s smiling face. His optimistic boyfriend could always cheer him up, although Germany rarely showed his happiness—he tended to look a bit unhinged when he smiled.

     “Ve, Doitsu,” Italy grinned at him, “are you ready for the meeting?”

     “Ja, Italy,” the German responded with a squeeze to the smaller nation’s hand. “Let’s go.”

     Germany thought about how many of the other nations had come to him this week—nations that he would have never pegged as anything but vanilla. Unfortunately for him, the only nation who seemed to not want to delve into the world of BDSM was his own boyfriend. Feli had hardly made mention of it since the day Francis had brought in that damn book.

     The two nations turned to walk into the conference room hand in hand when a chilling voice came from behind them. “Germany. You have a moment for me, da?”

     The tall blonde stopped short and turned, instinctively putting himself between Italy and the speaker. “Russia. Of course. One moment, bitte.” He turned to Italy and said “go on inside, I’ll meet you.”

     “Okay Doitsu,” Italy turned and skipped into the conference room happily.

     “Well, what is it?” Germany glared at the (barely) taller nation. Thankfully, the Russian had been one of the only nations to not pester him this week. Most likely due to his own extensive experience being dominating.

     “I was just wondering if you could tell me the best way to use my magic pipe of pain in a very sexy way,” Russia smiled blankly.

     _‘Nein’_ thought Germany. _‘This seriously cannot be happening. I can’t have another nation asking me for sexual advice. Nein, nein, nein!”_ Unwilling to offend the large and imposing nation, Germany attempted evasion with “Perhaps we could wait until after the meeting? We are on a schedule after all.” He tapped his watch to emphasize his point.

     “Da,” Russia hummed. “That is acceptable comrade.” He grinned and turned toward the conference room with Germany trailing behind him, a defeated look on his handsome features. Three more days of this. Germany was starting to think that he was not going to make it through this World Conference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dom: Dominant Partner in a BDSM relationship  
> Sub: Submissive Partner in a BDSM relationship  
> Er liebt dich--He loves you  
> Vanilla--Sex that is not BDSM
> 
> *America wearing a collar--In some BDSM relationships the submissive will wear a collar (sometimes an actual collar, sometimes a bracelet or anklet or other jewelry to denote their relationship). It can be bestowed in a ceremony that is similar to wedding/commitment ceremony/promise ceremony in BDSM community.


	4. Poor Germany

     Four hours, two breaks and eight cups of coffee for America later, no one was paying much attention to the video on ocean currents that had been set up for them to watch. Normally by this point in a world summit, most of the nations were nodding off or texting their assistants, but today they were all just chatting away as if the video wasn’t even playing.

     Germany had been enjoying some relief from the migraine he had finally fought off twenty minutes ago when he heard Greece tell Japan, “Maybe we could get some more use of my kitty ears later. I’m a bad cat. A bad naughty cat.”

     His blue eyes shot open and he started to look around the room, taking in all of the conversations around him.

     “I’m way too much of a hero for you old man.”

     “Watch your tone boy, I remember how to flog an unruly lad.”

     “I don’t know Gil, syrup is really hard to get out of fabric.”

     “You’ll drink the syrup and like it Mattie.”

     “I’m thinking that Joseph Haydn would be marvelous to listen to during the act.”

     “Are you insane, no way am I tying you up listening to that unoriginal court musician!”

     “I’m a bad naughty kitty cat.”

     “You are a very disrespectful cat! Shame on you!”

     France stood up and turned off the video since no one was paying attention to it any longer and he cared much more about the intimate lives of his friends than the silly ocean.

     “This is quite fun, is it not?” he smirked in Germany’s direction which cause some of the other nations to remember he was there and began pestering him once again.

     The meeting was getting more out of hand by the minute and Germany felt another migraine coming along. By now, all of the nations were either asking him questions that he had no desire to answer or they were discussing amongst themselves different techniques that they had tried in the past few days.

     Francis was just ecstatic that this entire situation had been completely turned to Germany and that no one really remembered how it all started—which meant that no one was blaming him. He could just sit back and watch the fun play out amongst the other nations.

     Suddenly Germany shot out of his seat and bellowed “EVERYONE SHUT UP!”

     The other nations all ceased talking immediately and turned to the de facto leader of their meeting. Most looked a little surprised at his outburst, only a few looked scared.

     “This has gone on long enough!” Germany shouted. “I am not the Google searching of bondage! This must stop! In fact, just Googley search it yourself and stop asking me things! I don’t want to know this much detail about any of your sex lives! I am done with you all! If we cannot have a normal meeting then there is no point in proceeding! Get it out of your systems and I will see everyone back here in the morning!”

     Germany gathered his papers as the other nations continued to stare at him in silence.

     “But Germany,” came a soft voice from his left. The blonde nation turned to meet the violet eyes of Russia. “I still have a question about my magic metal pipe of pain—“ he began, as the Baltic Trio began to shudder in the corner.

     “NEIN!” Germany bellowed. At this point, he was so frustrated that he didn’t even care about possibly offending the slightly unhinged Russia.He shoved his chair back under the table with the force of his pent up anger and turned to stalk out of the room, not waiting for anyone—even Italy.

     Unfortunately, France—being France—couldn’t resist one more poke at the imposing nation as he stalked from the room.

     “But Allemagne!” France called out to the retreating German’s back, “I still need your opinion on nipple clamps!”

     Germany’s scream of rage could be heard from all the way down the hall.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

     Most of the remaining nations had decided that Germany most likely had a valid point in ending the discussions for the day and proceeded to a small pub down the street that France, Spain and Prussia frequented when in town and insisted had an excellent menu.

     Each nation had a glass of their chosen poison in front of them, with the exception of Arthur who had four pints of a decent German brew surrounding him. England picked up the pint glass closest to him and downed almost the entire contents in one gulp. “I actually feel a bit bad for the poor chap. I didn’t realize we were all pestering him.”

     The island nation felt an arm slide around his shoulder and looked up into America’s incredibly blue eyes. “It’s okay Iggy,” Alfred said.

     “Don’t call me that,” England muttered.

     America didn’t even pause, “who else would anyone talk to about that kind of kink, Ludwig is like, the total master!”

     “Amerique is correct, Angleterre,” France consented and he sipped his wine.

     “I know, I know,” the blonde Englishman said, “doesn’t mean I don’t feel ruddy well awful about it though.” He grabbed the next pint and proceeded to swallow the entire contents of that glass as well.

     Almost tentatively, America took the remaining two pints and pushed them towards Prussia who latched on to the free beer with delight. “Britain?” Alfred said quietly using his lover’s more formal moniker, “slow down a bit babe, I have plans for you tonight.” This earned him a quite saucy grin from his English boyfriend who restrained from ordering more.

     Everyone still seemed a bit taken aback at the German’s outburst and they began discussing what exactly had been the straw that broke The Ludwig’s back.

     “I hope it wasn’t me,” said Spain with a tinge of worry behind his eyes. Everyone knew that the Spaniard was more of a nation pleaser and prided himself on getting along with most everyone at the conferences.

     Canada cleared his throat and said “I doubt it was you Spain,” but no one seemed to hear him except Prussia who grinned at the be-speckled nation causing the Canadian to blush.

     “Well,” began France, “we all know it wasn’t me. I did not ask a thing of poor dear Allemagne.”

     “Wasn’t you?” England sputtered. “You started this whole mess with that blasted excuse for a novel.”

     “Mon ami, Angleterre,” France oozed, “perhaps I may have began the ball rolling, however I did not let the idea of a little innocent bondage overtake my entire personality unlike a very ‘un-gentlemanly gentleman’ I could name. The hotel’s walls are quite thin mon ami.”

     England glared across the table at his frenemy. “You bloody froggy wanker stupid face!”

     All of the nations burst out laughing at the Brit’s poor attempts at insulting the Frenchman which only caused Arthur to get more agitated. He was practically vibrating with rage as America gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

     “You’re cute when you’re angry,” the young nation smirked.

     “You won’t think it’s so bloody cute later tonight lad,” England shot at him, which wiped the smile off of America’s face immediately and his eyes to light up with anticipation. The two nations had been having quite a good time this week with their new experimentation and Texas fogged up as America’s breathing intensified.

     “I just hope he’s calmed down by tomorrow morning,” Spain said, pulling the conversation back around to why they were all drinking in the first place.

     “Kesesese,” Prussia laughed into his beer. “Don’t worry about Westen. I guarantee that by tomorrow my awesome bruder will be his less-awesome-than-me-but-still-awesome self again.” He winked at the collective table.

     “What did you do, Prusse?” France raised a defined eyebrow at his friend.

     Prussia chuckled again as the nations leaned in toward him with curiosity behind their eyes, “Well let’s just say that while you were all pestering Westen, everyone but little Italy managed to forget someone with much more experience in the whole field. Namely—the Awesome Me!” He winked at Canada once again, which went unnoticed by most everyone except France who narrowed his eyes at the former nation for a moment.

     Grinning, Prussia leaned back in his chair and took another sip of beer. “Feli had lots of questions and the Awesome Me was ever so happy to help. Anything for meine bruder’s happiness. And right now—Westen is walking into the surprise of his life!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Joseph Haydn: An Austrian composer during the Classical period who was close friends with Mozart and spent much of his career as a 'court musician.' He said that when he retired from that position he had to "become original again."  
> *Britain: I like to think that America usually calls England a variety of irritating (to England) nicknames like Iggy or Artie or even his full human name of Arthur and that he only uses Britain when being serious. That is just my own personal headcanon.  
> *Spain being a 'nation pleasing nation' is also just my little thing. I feel like he is just so friendly and nice all the time. Cleaning Romano's room and putting up with his outbursts. I think that he has retired from his "Armada and Inquisition" days and is just a generally nice (and super cute) guy who wants all of them to be friends. I mean, even his 'April Fool's Joke' was just so that they could all take a funny picture together as buddies.


	5. Ti, Amo Germany

      After spending the last few hours stomping around town, with the occasional stop at a brewhaus to attempt to calm down, Germany found himself back on his own street. The tall, blue-eyed country paused on the doorstep to his own home and honestly debated leaving and never coming back. This definitely ranked up there as one of the worst World Conference weeks that he had ever experienced and he had _plenty_ of horrible World Conferences.

     Usually it was things he could handle—tensions arising from England and France throwing insults at each other; or England and America throwing insults at each other; Sealand or Prussia making an uninvited appearance; Switzerland threatening people; Russia being Russia—but this week topped them all. Even that shy little Canadian had asked him about the right way to pick out a safe word! If he had to listen to one more nation asking him about the best suspension harness on the market he was going to snap—and no one wanted to be around when Germany lost his temper.

     With a large sigh, the towering blonde nation unlocked his door, and stepped inside the dark entryway. He knew he would never run away from his problems, he was too responsible and set in his routine. Besides, taking off to get away was more Italy’s style than Germany’s.

     Speaking of his little Italian, Germany had not seen him since he had stormed out of the meeting. He hoped that Prussia had taken the initiative to bring Feli home instead of convincing him to join most of the other nations at the local brewhaus.

     “Bruder? Feli?” he called out. When he did not receive any reply, Germany frowned.

     Flicking the light switch next to the door, he went to place his keys on the side table as he did each time he came home and noticed a small note where he normally set his keys. Narrowing his eyes, Germany picked up the note and immediately recognized his brother’s handwriting.

    _Westen:_

_Gilbird and I are out for the night with France, Spain, England, America, and that cute little Canada. I’m planning on staying with one of them so don’t worry about me interrupting anything you may be doing. ;) I suggest you get up to your room right away West! Italy has a surprise for you--and don’t worry that he’s too delicate or whatever the fuck you think about him, he’s a lot stronger than you suspect. Show him a true German good time bruder! Enjoy!_

_The Awesome Me!_

_P.S. I fed the dogs so just go upstairs already. It will be awesome!_

     Still confused, Germany set the note back down on the table. His brother wanted him to go to his room to get a surprise from Italy. Verdammt. He was not in the mood for any surprises after this week. Stomping up the stairs, Germany was still muttering under his breath about all the horrors he had endured that week that when he opened the door he was not at all prepared for the sight that met his blue eyes.

     Italy was completely decked out in black leather. Leather vest, leather garrison hat set at a jaunty angle on his soft brown hair, knee high leather boots and tight, _tight_ leather pants. Germany’s mouth dropped open and he was so engrossed at how those pants were tight in all the right places that he didn’t even notice the black snake whip in his boyfriend’s hand until the Italian flicked it against his own leather clad leg.

     “Ve, Doitsu,” the Italian smirked up at his imposing boyfriend, immensely enjoying the temporary switch in their relationship.

     The German’s mouth was open in shock and all he could do was blink at his sweet Feli who was not so very sweet after all. Germany was very happy with the way things were in their love life, but despite his need to be the dominating one of their couple, he had to admit that _this_ was incredibly hot.

     Italy put the tip of the whip in between his lips and stared his blonde lover down. Germany felt his erection become completely unbearable as he watched the Italian.

     “Doitsu?” Italy looked at him through his thick eyelashes, “Do you like, Doitsu?”

     Germany coughed and managed to speak despite the lump in his throat, “Very much Feli”

     The Italian walked slowly toward him and slid his small, but surprisingly strong arms around Germany’s neck. In a very uncharacteristic fashion, Italy took the lead, pulling Germany toward him, pressing his small hands on the back of the taller nation’s neck and crashing their mouths together in a rough and passionate kiss. Germany moaned into his lover’s mouth and reluctantly broke away.

     “Italy?” Germany questioned. “Where exactly did you find that whip?”

     Italy smiled somewhat shyly, which was at odds with his current outfit and demeanor. “Ve, Doitsu,” he disclosed, “I didn’t want to ruin your surprise—so I asked Prussia! He brought me books and videos and left them in my nightstand so I could learn! And he helped me pick out my outfit! Ve! He was really helpful Doitsu! He knows a lot!”

     Germany mentally grimaced—the note with the spooky winking face made much more sense now as were his brother’s random trips into Germany’s room. “Ja,” the blonde nation agreed, “of course he does.”

     The smaller nation smiled up at Germany and said “Now Ludwig, I’m in charge tonight.”

     The tall blonde bent down and gave his shorter lover a light kiss. “Anything for you, meine liebling,” he whispered. “But before we continue this evening, we are going to need a safe word,” said the ever pragmatic German.

     “Ve, I know! Prussia told me all about it!” Italy exclaimed. “It’s ‘Pancakes’! Prussia picked it out for me!”

     Germany shook his head, thinking of his brother’s odd crush on shy Canada. “Of course he did,” Germany chuckled. “Very well, ‘Pancakes’ it is,” he smiled at Italy. Brushing the Italian’s curl, which caused the small nation to gasp, Germany leaned in to whisper, “Ich liebe dich.”

     Italy smiled at his boyfriend’s tender confession, and then pushed him back against the wall with the tip of the black snake whip. With a seductive smile the Italian advanced on the German and he replied, “Ti amo.”


End file.
